458 FOX-HOUND, FOREST, AND PRAIRIE. 



had stolen away at the bottom ; but had reckoned without his 

 host, the second whip. There had been a passable — no, a 

 galloping — scent all day. In the cool of the evening hounds 

 had a hold on their fox wherever he went, and wherever he 

 turned. And this fox was a good and bold one. I fancy 

 to-day's run was better even than the previous Monday's. I 

 will make my sketch mainly for local reading ; and local men 

 shall judge. Hounds settled admirably — free and unshackled 

 along the grass valley beneath Mantel's Heath. Indeed, 

 throughout, this gallant fox held his way over chosen ground — 

 taking the middle of the grass fields, and at length shaking off 

 his tormentors by beating horses rather than hounds. In the 

 fast early mile or two, who was more prominent at the tail of 

 the pack, tell me, than that tiny girl on the tiny grey pony ? 

 " Can't steer him ; I must go," she explained happily, as she 

 spun over the fences and twisted through the gates. A more 

 astonishing performance I never witnessed. This was while 

 the pack flew the valley between the villages of Farthingstone 

 and Litchborough. Then they turned uphill for Maidford 

 Wood — and the field squeezed its way through an orchard 

 which was also a great black refuse-bog. No chaff on this 

 occasion, please, gentlemen. Some mischances are too serious, 

 and too exhausting, for laughter. Ah, what a boon is good- 

 fellowship and unselfishness ! He is a true Christian who 

 helps another from the Slough of Despond. 



Maidford Wood was tempting, one would have thought ; but 

 our stout fox, like Gallio, cared for none of these things. He 

 shied away from it, to keep on the turf, and to leave Maidford 

 Village just on his left. The Maidford Brook was forded — 

 one at a time, which is a painful dilatory process, except for 

 the first man. Running on- — a capital pace, but no positive 

 race — hounds passed to the right of Adstone Village, and went 

 on to the railway about half-way between Plumpton Wood 

 and Canons Ashby, when they suddenly divided, and it was a 

 matter of luck whether you were caught tripping to the fresh 

 line or held forward with the acknowledged chase. In either 



